


Maybe I´m just queer for you...

by SusannahMalfoy



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Beatles Slash, Liverpool, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 15:44:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3856150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusannahMalfoy/pseuds/SusannahMalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Good old McLennon slash featuring protective!john and sweetandinsecure!macca. My first Beatles slash work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe I´m just queer for you...

**Author's Note:**

> Hey fans of Beatles slash and McLennon. This is not my first slash work, but my first work in the Beatles slash fandom. I really do hope you´ll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing.  
> I don´t own the Beatles, yada yada yada; this is for entertainment purposes only.  
> Slash content, which means: Male/male relationship. Don´t like, don´t read.
> 
> And if you liked it, I´d be glad if you left me a comment and tell me what you thought. Also if you found any mistakes. Thank you so much!

“Ey, McCartney! Wait up, princess,” shouted a red-faced bully across the school-yard. Paul didn´t react and increased his pace to get to the bus stop as soon as possible.  
“Hey, you faggot, I´m talkin´ ter ya!” The bully had caught up with him and violently spun him around. Paul´s heartbeat increased, his palms sweating. This was not the first time the gang from the upper classes roughed him up. “What do you want?” he said with more confidence than he felt, trying not to show fear and thereby giving them satisfaction.

“Oh, just a bit of dough, you know – we seem to have run out of ciggies...”  
“I don´t have any money on me, sorry,” Paul replied, turning on his heel and picking up his fast pace again. “Oh, we´ll see about that, shan´t we, princess?” He was held by a hand on each shoulder. However, before those guys could get into his jacket, a voice made them stop their current actions.

“`S there a problem, Macca?” As soon as the older boys spotted John Lennon with a group of students from his art college, they let go of the young Teddy boy immediately. Lennon was notorious, and one didn´t want to get on his bad side. He could be brutal and cruel, and was quick to lash out with words and fists.

He drew nearer, putting up the neck of his black leather jacket and drawing one hand through his greased-up hair. He had a menacing air about him, so that the bullies held up their hands and their leader backed off. “Whoa whoa whoa, Lennon, `s alright, we just had a chat with our mate `ere, right, McCartney?” Paul looked away, his mouth a tight line.

John came even closer to Paul´s tormentor until they were face to face, the former looming over the latter by a few inches. “If I see you coming close to tha´one again, you´ll answer to me, d´ya understand?” “Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever.” “Good.” John Lennon stared the bully down for good measure before swiftly turning around and adressing Paul, who had recovered a bit by then.

“Come on, Macca, I need to talk ter ya anyway about band practice.” John said ushering the younger lad away from the school-yard.

“Cheers, mate,” Paul mumbled, as soon as they were out of ear-shot.

“Dunno what yer talking about, son,” John grinned, and punched his friend lightly in the shoulder.

“And if they ever give you a hard time again, you know whom to call on, right?”

“You´re my saviour, Lennon.” “Only for you, princess!” John gave back and winked. “Not you too!” groaned Paul.

“Well, you are awfully pretty, aren´t ya, ya git!” John pretended to eye him up. “You´ve got awfully long lashes for a guy, Macca. And those plump lips...” John said mockingly.

Paul just rolled his eyes and got on the bus. “See ya when I see ya, John.” “Ta-ra, son!”

Paul sat down by the window, snatching the seat away from a first year. Looking out, he spotted a still beaming John blowing him kisses and pretending to swoon. He was such a clown, that one. Paul smiled fondly. Ever since they had met in that church when The Quarrymen had had that gig, everything revolved around this boy. He didn´t even know why John, being a few years his senior, would spend his time with an underaged, baby-faced chap like him... He sighed. He was glad that John chose to do so, though. Although he was quite mad most of the time, and terribly moody as well as insecure, he just lit up Paul´s world like noone else could, burning like Paul´s personal sun, bringing life and heat in everything. And when it came to playing music, he and John seemed to be two sides of the same coin – complementing each other, inseperable. One thing however, Paul chose not to examine too closely, was the feeling that John left him with when he mock-flirted with him, as he was wont to do. John made a habit of charming each and everyone around him, revelling in the spotlight, needing approval like noone else Paul knew. And still Paul thought that their interactions were different from all the others. When John looked at him, he felt special. Cherished. 

As soon as those thoughts surfaced, he pushed them down again instantly. Blushing, he took his mind off things by trying to recall the right chords for the latest Chuck Berry song. Using his left arm as a guitar neck, he gripped the chords with his right hand. Playing music soothed Paul McCartney like a charm, and it didn´t fail this time either.

When the bus pulled up to Paul´s stop, he got off and practically ran home, wanting to practise again to show off in front of John and the other lads at the next session.

 

 

Paul awoke with a start. Someone was throwing tiny pebbles against the window of his child´s room. Although he was absolutely knackered, he instantly knew who would be so crazy as to pay him a visit in the middle of the night. He glanced at the clock sitting on his bedside table. 3am.  
Rubbing his eyes, he shuffled to the window. The pebbles seemed to have gotten bigger, and he was afraid, John would break the glass eventually. Paul opened the window and stuck his head outside. As suspected, the 18 year old band leader stood there, picking up another pebble.

“Stop it, you daft prick!” he hissed as quietly as he could.  
“Are you lonesome...tonite... do you miss me... tonite,” John sung lowly.  
“What are you doing here, you nutter? Shut up or you´ll wake me da´, and how am I going to explain to him I´m bein´ serenaded in the middle of the night?”  
“Can I come up?” asked John, completely ignoring Paul´s question, and not even waiting for an answer, climbed up the drain pipe, more or less elegantly hopping inside.

Paul, only clad in faded old baby blue pajama bottoms, hugged himself. Although it was May, it was still a bit cold in the night. John poked him into his side and grinned.  
“Hey, cut that out, Lennon! I know I´m podgy, no need to rub it in.”  
“Naaaw, not need to get defensive, princess. I love yer just as podgy and squishy as you are.” John took one of Paul´s cheeks between his fingers and squeezed. Paul faintly smelled alcohol on John´s breath.

“I still don´t know why you´re here in the middle of the night, tryin´ ter break my window and poking fun at me,” Paul complained.

John´s expression turned serious. “Mimi wouldn´t let me go out because I was drunk the last weekend and sicked up all over her flower beds. So I sneaked out but forgot to open me window, and now I can´t get in... And I´d rather not face her wrath right now...”

“So you wanna kip here.” It wasn´t a question. Paul grabbed an old sweater from his chest of drawers and pulled it over his head. “Pity, I enjoyed the sight,” John stated grinning.

“Shut up, you, or I´ll chuck you out on yer sorry arse, Lennon.” 

John slowly walked closer to Paul, using his most pitiful puppy-dog eyes expression, sagging his shoulders. “Pwetty pweeease, Paulie?” 

Even though it was dark in the room, the street lamp from outside gave enough light so that Paul could easily make out the features of his older friend. The normally perfectly styled quiff had dissolved into several individual strands, one of them hanging John in the eyes; his eyebrows knit together in a very sorry expression, his thin lips pouting. “Please, Macca, I´ll be good, I swear. You can make me sleep on the rug in front of yer bed. I´ll take your jumper as a pillow or something...”

Inside his head, Paul had been thrilled at the idea of John sleeping so close to him from the start, he just didn´t want to come across as easy; he was defenseless against John´s charms as it was; no need to give John the impression he could do with him as he pleased whenever he wanted to.

Not getting the hoped for answer immediately, John drew even nearer, intensifying his stare, which resulted in Paul getting goose pimples all over his body from the heat radiating off John and his aura. He needed to get away as soon as possible, so his body wouldn´t betray him with inappropriate actions below his navel.

“Alright, alright. But you need to leave before me Da´s awake!” Paul tried to sound stern, but mucked it up when a smile split his face in two. He looked down to the ground, blushing – and why the hell did he blush so much around John Lennon in the first place? - and got into bed again, throwing John his pillow in a good-will gesture.

“Could you bolt the door, please? Just in case...”  
“Sure. Thanks for the pillow”, John said and tried to get comfortable on the rug next to Paul´s tiny single bed.

Paul pulled off his jumper again, scrunched it up and used it as a pillow. John scooted to and fro, turning around, pulling up his legs into a fetal position, and closed his eyes. Several seconds later, he turned over again, and again, once lying on his stomach with his face in the soft cushion, then lying on his back. Not yet satisfied, he sat up, shrugged off his leather jacket, and covered himself with it. Paul could make out that John was shivering slightly.

“You cold?” he asked.  
“Naaaw...Yeah, a bit. S´alright though.”

Paul tried to close his eyes and sleep, but John started moving around again.

“John?”  
“Mh?”  
“Don´t take this wrong, but... do you want ter share me bed?”  
John sighed and replied “I thought you´d never ask, Macca”, jumped up, removed his drains – which was a bit of a kerfuffle and nearly made him fall in the process - and slipped under the cover in only his shirt and shorts. Paul had moved as closely to the wall as he could, but the bed was tiny, and they had to press together to fit anyway.

John took up his scooting around once more.  
“Cor, will you stop it? I want to sleep!” Paul chided.  
“I dunno where to put me arms,” John complained, and turned to his left side, so he lay chest to back with Paul.  
“Put them somewhere and be done with it already! And make a bit less noise, will ya.”  
“Will do, princess,” John whispered, his face now very close to Paul´s ear, making him shiver once again, and put his arm around Paul´s chest. He waited a second, expecting a complaint, but it never came. On the contrary, John had the impression that his friend scooted a bit closer even.  
“Who would have thought all that baby fat would be so darn comfy,” John said lowly, grinning into the darkness.  
“I hate you so much,” Paul said and started pulling away, although he didn´t make it far. John used the arm around Paul´s chest to draw him back into his embrace again.   
“No, you don´t.” He nestled himself even closer to the younger boy and started nuzzling the soft feather like hair in the nape of Paul´s neck. Paul sighed and melted into John´s embrace.  
“John... what´re yer doin´?” he mumbled sleepily.  
“Nuthin´. Everyone needs a bit of a cuddle once in a while, right?”  
That seemed a very sound argument for Paul. “Right.”  
“If ye want me ter stop I will,” John hastily added.  
“No, don´t. S´nice.”  
“It is, innit.”  
“Yeah...”

Getting bolder, John moved his hand to Paul´s stomach and started drawing small lazy circles upon it with his fingertips. A shudder ran through his friend. John held his breath for a while, still expecting a lash out of some sort, but Paul seemed to enjoy his ministrations, against all odds.  
“Yer not podgy, y´know? I was only teasin´,” John whispered into his ear.  
Paul let out a soft moan and turned a bit towards John, so he was lying more on his back than his side. John didn´t stop stroking him, letting the circles get wider, enjoying the baby soft skin under his hands. Paul turned his head a fraction so he could look at John. Although he´d been studying that face more than he dared admit to himself, he´d never seen it up close like this. He took in the heavy lidded look, the eyes almost slits, John´s aquiline nose, and again, a loose strand falling into his eyes. Carefully, he reached out and tucked it back behind an ear. Then, not being told off for touching John, he let his fingers glide over John´s cheekbones. This made John sigh, close his eyes, and draw Paul even closer, sliding his left arm under his friend´s head, so he was completely encircled in his arms.

Paul´s head was now nestled in the crook between Johns head and shoulder, and John stroked Paul´s bare skin between the shoulder blades down to his lower back, evoking shudder after shudder.

With delight John felt Paul nuzzling his neck, so softly that he thought he imagined it at first.  
“Macca...”, he sighed, stretching his neck as to give Paul better access. “Johnny?” Paul pulled away so their faces were on the same level. John touched Pauls cheek with a finger, loving the way his baby faced friend scrunched up his nose in delight. He touched Paul´s nose with his, again, then once more; then inhaled Paul´s sweet breath that he got drunk upon more than from the booze he imbibed earlier.

Feeling high on the look that his friend gave him, John put his closed lips over Paul´s. He just pressed them together very softly, then pulled away.

Paul suddenly went a bit stiff. “Johnny... are you doing that because you´re pissed?” he asked anxiously.  
“Naw, Paulie... I didn´t actually drink that much...” John smiled.   
“So... does that mean you like me then?”   
“Of course I like ye, ye twat!”  
“I mean, do you like me?”  
“I´m not queer or something. I like birds, I really do. All soft and squishy and stuff. I dunno what it is with you, Macca... It´s just that I always want to protect you and hold you, and touch you...” John trailed off. “That alright with you?”  
“Yeah I guess...” He cleared his throat softly when it became rather tight all of a sudden. “I´m not queer either. Well, maybe I´m a bit queer for you. Can you be queer for just one person, Johnny?” Paul whispered insecurely.  
“Mabye... Dunno. But does it matter? I mean, I have you, and you have me, so... That´s just that, is it? I know it´s illegal, but this with you and me, this is right, isn´t it? It feels right.”

“It does,” Paul admitted, relaxing slightly.  
“Johnny?” “Yes, princess?” “I´ve never been kissed before, ya know?”

John´s face lit up with a very pleased, wide grin.

“We´ll have to rectify that then, won´t we, Macca-luv?” he said, and pulled himself up, so lay on his elbows, one arm on each side of Paul, his hips straddling his friend.

“Alright,” said Paul, his breath hitching in his throat, his usually huge eyes at half-mast, shily looking up at his crush. 

John got closer again, his mouth not entirely closed this time, but letting Paul feel the slightly most inside of his lips. His shirt bunched up a bit against Paul´s naked torso when he moved his whole body closer. When John felt an erection pressing up against him, Paul moved his head to the side, trying embarassedly to hide his face in the soft pillow.

“Ey Macca, nothing to be ashamed of. Actually that´s very flattering...” John grinned. At that, Paul hesitantly smiled up again, and lifted his head to meet John´s lips once more.


End file.
